SONG LOGIC - my new book!|
An Ridire Risteard
He put on all clean clothes, folded his stock carefully, and donned his best coat. Then, being ready, as grey twilight was falling, he went across to the orchard to gather the daffodils. The wind was roaring in the apple-trees, the yellow flowers swayed violently up and down, he heard even the fine whisper of their spears as he stooped to break the flattened, brittle stems of the flowers.The actual courtin' scene itself is a masterfully succinct piece of subjective difficulty and violent otherness (to use a term I'd rather not). Full of instant and flushing transformations. Vivid.
‘What to-do?’ shouted a friend who met him as he left the garden gate.
‘Bit of courtin’, like,’ said Brangwen.
And Tilly, in a great state of trepidation and excitement, let the wind whisk her over the field to the big gate, whence she could watch him go.
He went up the hill and on towards the vicarage, the wind roaring through the hedges, whilst he tried to shelter his bunch of daffodils by his side. He did not think of anything, only knew that the wind was blowing. (p40, Oxford Classics)
02/04 03/04 04/04 05/04 06/04 07/04 08/04 09/04 10/04 11/04 12/04 01/05 02/05 03/05 04/05 05/05 06/05 07/05 08/05 09/05 10/05 11/05 01/06 02/06 03/06 04/06 05/06 06/06 08/06
Alternatively, read about it at: The Slow Review or the long blog. Or even Nurture Health